


Insomnia

by Moontyger



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: Three times Jack O'Malley couldn't sleep.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagicCarpet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicCarpet/gifts).



Jack O’Malley couldn’t sleep. He’d lain awake for what felt like hours, but he felt no closer to sleep than when he’d gone to bed. It wasn’t like him and there didn’t seem to be a good reason for it. His room was dark with the curtains drawn and the house was quiet – not silent, but nothing that was cause for alarm. His bed wasn’t fancy, but it should have been good enough. Fancy probably would have made things worse instead of helping; it wasn’t as though he had much experience with fancy beds. He’d slept plenty of places far worse than this, even prided himself on being able to sleep almost anywhere. But here he was, in his own bed in his own house, and he couldn’t sleep.

But maybe that was the problem. “His own house.” O’Malley had never had much of anything to call his own before and definitely nothing as big as a house. It felt wrong, like someone had made a mistake somewhere and any minute now, police would storm in to arrest them and take it back. 

Wasn’t anything he’d asked for or expected either. O’Malley liked nice things, sure, didn’t everyone? Fancy cheese, wine with bubbles, a warm place to sleep and shoes that fit and kept his feet dry. But a house was far grander than anything he’d ever included on his mental list of things that made up the good life, especially a house with _three whole floors._ A house like that was for rich people, with their noses in the air and a stick up their arse, not for someone like him.

He sighed and sat up. Maybe he’d go for a walk or something. Sure, it was the middle of the night and he’d always tended to attract trouble, but he could take care of himself. Couldn’t be more dangerous than some of the things he’d done lately anyway.

The hippo spirit lying on his pillow hopped to its feet as soon as O’Malley’s hit the floor. “Where are we going? It’s time to sleep, isn’t it?” It cocked its head at O’Malley in an incongruously birdlike manner, eyes wide and curious.

He shrugged back, so used to the spirit’s presence that it no longer seemed strange to him. “Can’t sleep.”

When he opened his bedroom door and started down the stairs, he saw the house wasn’t quite as dark as he’d thought. An oil lamp was burning, somewhere off in another room, the light just barely seeping out into the hall. O’Malley wasn’t yet that familiar with the layout of his new abode – finally, he supposed he had a fixed one, for whatever that was worth – but he thought the light came from the direction of the library and hence Ben’s room.

He headed toward the light, hippo practically dancing along behind him, and found that he’d been right. Lots of books here, more than O’Malley could imagine any one person reading in a lifetime, and Ben as well, hair disheveled like he’d been shoving his hands through it frequently, sitting at a desk and paging through a large volume with a leather cover in some light color. Several others were stacked neatly on the desk, either waiting to be read or already finished. Ben’s wizard aura was brighter than the lamp he was using, so bright that O’Malley thought he’d be able to read by that alone if he could see it, but it cast no shadows and didn’t really illuminate anything. Like magic itself, at least in his experience.

O’Malley paused in the doorway and smirked at the sight. “Those books aren’t going anywhere, y’know.”

Ben looked up, face flushed but his expression more indignant than flustered. “I know that! But I still didn’t want to wait to look at some of these.” O’Malley didn’t get it and thought he never would, even if he learned to read as well as Ben could. What could be so interesting about words on paper? Reading was like his vision had been during that brief time Ben had had his sight: dull and with something vital missing, experience drained of everything that made it interesting. “Anyway, what are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Jack ambled over and sprawled on the sofa against the far wall. It was more comfortable than he’d expected; firm enough that he didn’t sink right into it, but not so hard he’d ache after spending time there. It was the kind of sofa he could sleep on - at least, most of the time. He lay back, knees bent up and stockinged feet on the middle cushion, testing it out. Yeah, not bad.

“So you’re just going to sleep here instead?”

“Maybe.” But that would be stupid; he had his own room and all. “Nah.” O’Malley sat up properly and looked over at Ben thoughtfully. “Yer the wizard, the one reading all those books – what do ye think they meant about obligations? What does the Witch of Widdershins do?” And why did it rate a house and stipend? That was the part that really worried him. It seemed too good to be true and O’Malley wasn’t naive. He knew all too well about that sort of thing. Look at what had happened when they’d first arrived – he’d thought he’d done well, getting him and Wolfe out of prison, even finding them a job and a place to stay, when really he’d made them pawns and nearly made Wolfe food for Sloth.

“I’m not quite sure,” Ben confessed. “It’s been some time since there’s been a Witch here and I’m not a historian. You’d do better to ask your law student. But I’d expect a lot of it is what you’ve already been doing: dealing with malforms and tracking down illegal summons.”

“Wizards can do that,” O’Malley said, but Ben had a point. Wizards could do it, technically, but it was easier for him, especially now that the buggerups knew his name and that he could both see them and send them home.

“I imagine there are ceremonial functions as well,” Wolfe said from the doorway. He had the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes, but his smile and spirit were as bright as always. “I didn’t mean to listen in, but you weren’t speaking terribly quietly.”

“Didn’t mean t’keep you up.” It wasn’t quite an apology, not technically, but O’Malley knew Wolfe would understand. He always did.

“No, it is all right.” He crossed the room and sat down next to O’Malley on the sofa. “It is often difficult to sleep in a strange place.”

O’Malley let that pass without comment, though he knew Wolfe had done it plenty of times before. Here in Widdershins had been the first time they’d spent long in one place since they’d begun traveling together. “I don’t do ceremonial,” he said firmly, replying to Wolfe’s earlier statement. He wasn’t at all sure what the word even meant, especially when applied to him, but he imagined it might involve having to dress up and listen to people who thought far too highly of themselves give long, boring speeches. Or worse, having to give speeches like that himself. Or do the kind of fancy, exacting magic that Harry had tried to help him with to bind the Sins, only with an audience to see he couldn’t draw a proper circle and laugh at him for it.

“It might not be that bad,” Wolfe offered, but that was what Wolfe always said. He meant it, too – that was the hard part. From anyone else, he could laugh off statements like that, but not from Wolfe. O’Malley’s cynicism was well-earned, but it was difficult to maintain in the face of Wolfe’s sincere faith that nothing could be that unpleasant and there was a silver lining to everything.

“Ask your lawyer,” Ben suggested. “He seems to know what he’s doing. Maybe he can get you out of it. Like I said, it’s been a long time. People here won’t remember that the Witch used to do that sort of thing, so they can’t really complain you’re going against tradition if you don’t do it.”

O’Malley crossed his arms over his chest and glowered. “Don’t care ‘bout tradition or ‘bout complaints neither.” He just didn’t want to be thrown out of town, or arrested again, or have them take back this house and salary. Just because he hadn’t expected them, hadn’t ever imagined the position would come with such things, didn’t mean he didn’t want them. Everyone needed money and a roof over their head; he’d done without often enough to have no illusions on that score.

“And you do not need to worry about them. You are the only witch they’ve got.” Wolfe nodded emphatically.

Ben looked thoughtful, his aura brightening even more and making O’Malley want to shade his eyes. “And judging from that door, the witch isn’t something the mayor or city council really control. I don’t think they could make you leave even if they wanted to, so they’ll have to work with you.”

O’Malley hadn’t really thought about it that way before. Witch was an insult, then it became a responsibility he wasn’t sure he could live up to; it hadn’t ever been a blessing. He knew he could do things other people couldn’t, but up till now, it had been more of a curse than something he could exploit. People used _him_ , or tried to, and he just did his best to survive and protect his friends. It was strange to think that maybe now he’d be able to do more than that.

“Just – ah, don’t go signing anything your lawyer hasn’t read, please.” That was the most Wolfe had ever said about what had happened with Fairbairn, but then, he hadn’t needed to say anything. O’Malley had kicked himself for it enough all on his own. He’d known better, he really had, and he’d put his x on those papers anyway.

“I won’t.”

“Good. Then I suggest we adjourn to the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.” Ben added his book to the top of the stack and lined up the edges carefully before standing.

“Let’s see if we’ve got anything t’eat, too,” O’Malley suggested, suddenly hungry at the mention of the kitchen. He knew they had food, but he hadn’t gone on that particular trip and wasn’t sure what would be in the cupboards. 

“All right,” Wolfe agreed. “Tea and a midnight snack, then let’s all go back to bed and try to get at least a little sleep.”

* * *

O’Malley slept better after that and several months passed before he found himself lying in bed sleepless once more. This time he took a candle with him when he got out of bed and it was a good thing he did. No light came from the library and he couldn’t hear anyone else moving around. The other two must be sound asleep. O’Malley wished he were. 

He’d spent a lot of time alone; wandering the house that suddenly felt as though he were the only one in it shouldn’t bother him. But somehow it did. Without someone else around, suddenly O’Malley felt _lonely_ , as ridiculous as that sounded. Even to him, maybe _especially_ to him. 

To distract himself, he tried to pay more attention to the house as he walked, watching the shadows cast by his candle as they grew and changed with each step. It looked different in the dark, strange and unfamiliar despite the months he’d lived there. Over there was the ridiculous painting Wolfe had liked so much that Ben and O’Malley had bought it for him and there was Ben’s desk, everything neatly lined up like he was expecting some sort of inspection and would be penalized if even a paperclip was loose on the desk or a pen not precisely lined up next to the paper.

O’Malley spent a few minutes messing with it, turning books so the stack was uneven and moving the pen to an awkward angle with everything else. Nothing was damaged or ruined; it just looked like a desk someone actually used. 

He was turning to leave when something caught his eye. Something was wrong with one of the bookcases. He couldn’t explain it and he didn’t think it had changed. It looked just the way it usually did, except mostly in the dark, and somehow there was something off about that.

O’Malley walked closer, setting his candle on one of the shelves while he tried to examine the bookcase. What was it that he’d seen? There were a few books missing, probably among the ones on Ben’s desk, or maybe among the pile stacked next to his bed. Maybe it was something about the back of the bookcase where they’d usually be? O’Malley reached out and ran his hands along it, letting his fingers compensate for the poor light. There it was: a slight depression in the wood, probably invisible during the day. He pressed it and the entire bookcase swung inward, releasing a gust of cold wind that blew out his candle.

O’Malley stumbled backwards, startled, then tripped and landed hard. He might have cried out; he couldn’t be sure, but he could hear both the others stirring as he lay on the floor.  
He’d gotten to his feet by the time they’d come into the room, both bearing the more sensible oil lamps O’Malley hadn’t wanted to bother with.

“Mal? Are you quite all right?” Wolfe sounded worried; O’Malley hated when he worried, especially about him. 

“’m fine. Just didn’t expect it, is all.” He gestured to the where the bookcase had been, now a gaping dark hole in the wall.

“The books!” Ben gasped. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know, do I? It was probably meant to do that. There’s some kind of switch where some of the books used to be.”

Holding his lamp high, Wolfe cautiously went to examine the opening. Even with the light, O’Malley couldn’t see much, just a bare stone floor and lots of dust. 

Ben followed Wolfe, directing his light at that floor. “No one can have been here in a very long time. It’s hard to tell with all this dust, but I don’t think any circles are drawn on here. It should be safe to enter.”

Which didn’t mean O’Malley _wanted_ to enter, but he supposed he should. This room or passage or whatever was beneath his house; he should know what was in there and if there were any other entrances. Someone could get in and sneak up on them – not a spirit, he’d probably notice that, but he’d never had much luck when it came to fighting normal humans.

Wolfe went in first, which was reassuring except for the way the bulk of him blocked the view of the two behind. It seemed to be a hallway, narrow and windowless but with a high ceiling. A few yards in and they came across a doorway to the right. 

Wolfe paused before the door. It was wooden and looked old, though not so old as to have rotted away. Streaks of lighter gray spread from the hinges across the dark wood. It was probably rust, but it could have been some sort of mildew or lichen instead. “Should I open it?”

“Might as well,” O’Malley replied, but he kept well back from it, shoulders pressed against the cold stone of the opposite wall.

The door had swollen with damp and Wolfe struggled with it, but he managed to force it open. The room inside was small and at first glance, O’Malley thought it was a cell, one without even the barred windows he’d had as a child. It had an old bedframe, currently bare of mattress, a wooden chair, and what might be the remains of a rag rug on the floor. He stayed where he was in the hallway, his hands balled into tight fists, nails digging into his palms; he wasn’t about to set foot in that room. “What -” his throat had gone suddenly dry and he had to clear it several times to finish the question, “is this place?”

“I think it must be a witch hole.” Ben sounded fascinated, even excited, not sick to his stomach like O’Malley felt. “Witches have not always been regarded kindly, even in Widdershins. This was probably intended as somewhere for the witch to hide if necessary. The hallway continues; there might be facilities to live down here for some time.”

A refuge, then, not a prison, but this knowledge didn’t make O’Malley feel much differently about it. He was certain he couldn’t use it, even if a mob was pounding at the door and calling for his blood. “Think they ever used it?” He didn’t care, not really, but the question might help cover how uncomfortable he felt. 

“It is difficult to say. It’s furnished, but that doesn’t mean much.” Wolfe led Ben back out into the hall. “Do we wish to go farther?”

Ben was eager, of course, and O’Malley nearly as begrudging, but he agreed. As Ben had suggested, there were other rooms and together they made a place someone could live for a time: a simple kitchen, whose cooking facilities Wolfe examined with interest, speculating about where the smoke vented; and even a small library, the lone room magically preserved, looking as though the owner had just stepped out and would be back any moment. They had to nearly drag Ben out of that one.

After that, the hallway continued on for some time, the blank stone walls unbroken by doors or décor of any kind. “I wonder where this exits,” Wolfe said at last, long after O’Malley had become bored and ready to cease being underground.

But as Wolfe wondered, the answer appeared in his mind as though it had only required the words to summon it. “The Anchor. It goes to the Anchor.” O’Malley couldn’t have said how he knew, but he was certain. He could always sense the Anchor a bit, but he’d never been able to tell something connected to it before.

Now that he knew where the tunnel led, O’Malley turned to go back. No need to go all the way there.

“Shouldn’t we make sure you’re right?” Ben asked, though he turned to head back as well.

“Don’t need to.”

O’Malley doubted that would be the end of it, but for now, Ben must have realized he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“It makes sense that it would be the Anchor,” Wolfe commented as they walked. “I doubt anyone could follow you through that door if you didn’t want them to.” It was reassuring in a way, but O’Malley couldn’t help but notice the distance he’d have to traverse before he got there.

The path back seemed somehow even longer than before, rubbing his nose in just how long the journey would feel if he really had to flee this way. By the time he saw the bookcase against the wall and the opening into the library, O’Malley thought he could sleep for a week.

“One of ye figure out how t’close this, yeah?” he said. Then, not looking back to see if they did, he staggered off toward his room, shutting the door firmly as though he could shut out that passage and the underground life it made him imagine all too clearly.

* * *

After that, O’Malley found it harder to sleep in the house. He had dreams of living down there in that tunnel, never seeing the light of day or feeling the wind on his face, or of finding someone else who’d been living there without any of them knowing. Sometimes those people were a threat, other times they were people he knew, people he cared about, trapped for ages in the dark while he’d been oblivious.

One night, he decided that if he couldn’t sleep in his bed, he’d have to try sleeping somewhere else. He didn’t want to wander the Witch House again; who knew what he might find this time? Maybe it had all kinds of secrets they hadn’t yet discovered. But he remembered that sofa, the one in the library. That had been pretty comfortable.

He took a proper oil lamp this time, instead of just a candle – whatever people said about him, O’Malley learned from experience. He got dressed, including his coat, and made his way to the library.

There he checked that the passage was closed and made his way to the sofa. He removed his coat and rolled it into a rough pillow, then lay down still fully dressed and closed his eyes. Ah, yes. That was better. Harder and narrower than his bed, but it felt _familiar_. It was far from the first sofa he’d slept on and he found it oddly comforting.

He was just starting to drift off when a sudden weight landed on his stomach and knocked the air out of him. He grunted and grabbed his coat, prepared to use it to hit whatever it was, when he opened his eyes and saw the hippo looking back at him, ears perked up and eyes wide. “O’Malley, what are you doing sleeping here? This isn’t where you sleep!”

O’Malley hadn’t seen the hippo in weeks. He wondered where it had gone and why it had chosen this moment to return. It wasn’t a pet; it could go where it liked, but somehow its return made him feel better, like it was good luck or something. Or would have been, if he believed in such things.

“Thought I’d try sleeping here tonight,” he said. He didn’t try to explain the rest of it and it seemed like he didn’t need to.

“OK!” The hippo didn’t argue or ask any questions, just turned around three times like a dog, then lay down across O’Malley’s legs. It wasn’t a normal creature and there was no reason it should, but he thought it felt warm lying there. Companionable, comforting – one of those words, the ones he was only beginning to feel accustomed to.

He closed his eyes again and this time he slept, the best sleep he’d had in a long time.


End file.
